The Wild Wolf's Heir
by karinfan123
Summary: The bastard son of Brandon Stark, the Wild Wolf, makes his way into the world. What will he become in a land where bastards are but pawns in the Game of Thrones? You win or you die, and Rodrik Snow has no intention of dying.


Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire. G.R.R. Martin owns that, I'm just playing with the timeline a bit.

Now for the story!

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_**Ryswell Castle, Godswood, 280 AL**_

Brandon Stark, eldest son and heir of Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell, was a nervous wreck. Why? Because Barbrey Ryswell, his lover, was giving birth to his firstborn child. The screams were driving him mad, but the Maester had shoved him out of the birthing room; so he could do nothing, but think and pace. So he had gone to the Godswood to do just that.

_'It would help,'_ Brandon thought bitterly, _'if we were married. I could offer her so much more than the dishonor of baring my bastard.'_

Honor! He was starting to sound like his brother. Naive little Ned, who thought the world revolved around honor and fair dealings. A black and white world where evil was punished and good was rewarded.

Brandon knew better. He may be called the "Wild Wolf," but he knew how the world really worked. Power, power was what mattered. Those with it prospered, and those without lived at the whims of those who had it.

Even he, the heir to the Lord of Winterfell, was powerless in this situation.

"All I wanted was to marry Barbrey, was that too much to ask?" He muttered angrily beneath his breath. "But no. Father has to have that bloody Tully girl as the future Lady of Winterfell! He needs an alliance with House Tully and whatever other House of Southron fools he marries Lyanna into. What good has the South ever done us! It would serve them all right if I simply told Lord Hoster to bugger off and helped that fool Baelish marry his _precious_ Catelyn."

But no, he couldn't do that. As angry and wild as Brandon Stark was, he was still loyal to his father and would do what was best for House Stark and the North.

_'But is having some Tully half-breed as the future Lord of Winterfell what is really best for the North?'_ He thought to himself, sceptically. Tullys were well-known for putting their heart before their heads, after all.

Brandon snorted. "Look whose talking," he muttered, "You put your heart or your prick before your head almost every day!"

Still, the thought was there. The doubt that such a mix of blood lines was a good idea. His father had always said that a true Lord of Winterfell, a true Stark, put the good of the North before everything else. Before family, friends, or personal desires...

His thoughts and pacing were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Startled, Brandon turned to see Lord Rodrik Rysell, Barbrey's father, standing there with a tired, but happy look on his face.

Brandon perked up at the look on Lord Ryswell's face. "She's alright? The baby is fine?" He asked frantically, worry for Barbrey and his child coming back to the fore of his mind.

Rodrik smiled and nodded. "They're fine, my boy," he said soothingly, "but she's been asking for you. Might be, you should go see her and the babe." Rodrik got a teasing look in his eye, and continued, "Unless you'd prefer to tear your hair out, that is."

Snorting, he slapped the man on the shoulder and strided toward the room that held Barbey in it, Lord Rodrik on his heels.

Arriving at the door, he threw it open and barreled his way inside. Brandon stopped then, the sight in front of him taking his breath away.

Barbrey looked up from the child in her arms, his child, and smiled. An amused twinkle entering her eyes was visible, something that always appeared when he did something foolish.

After a moment of silence, spent staring at the sight before him, he stepped closer. "Is that...?" He couldn't quite form the words for what he wanted to say.

Giving a tired smirk, Barbrey inclined her head a little. "Would you care to see, my Lord?" She murmured softly, beckoning him closer, "I present your son, Rodrik Snow."

Brandon heard a chuckle behind him, likely Lord Rodrik being amused that the child had been named for him. Brandon ignored him and sat at the edge of Barbrey's bed.

Taking the boy, his boy, out of his mother's arms, Brandon could barely believe his eyes. Now he understand why his Lord father's eyes always light up with pride when he sees his children. It's an amazing feeling, knowing that he helped create such a little wonder.

Barbrey broke Brandon from his thoughts. "He looks like you, Brandon," she whispered softly, playing with Rodrik's small mess of brown hair, "Like a true Lord of Winterfell."

Those words made something in Brandon perk up, causing him to look more closely at the little bundle in his arms. Examining the boy closely, he could see she was right, he looked just like him; brown hair and long face included. Then Brandon shifted his focus to Rodrik's eyes, and his mind stopped.

They were hard, steel grey, eyes that stopped his thoughts in their tracks and froze his body in place. They reminded Brandon of his grandfather, Lord Edwyle Stark, who was said to have starred down every Great Lord in the War of the Nine Penny Kings and terrified them all into compliance, all from a look from his hard, steel grey, eyes. _'This is a true Stark of Winterfell,'_ Brandon thought, and wished that this boy could be his heir.

It was then that he remembered what he had considered in the Godswood, that a true Stark put the good of the North before his personal desires.

'_But what if your personal desires match what is best for the North_,' he wondered silently. '_What if, I could get what I want and do what was best for my House's subjects too?_'

It was then that he decided on his course of action, while sitting there with his son, talking quietly with Barbrey. He would see his son as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and would do whatever it took to get his son legitimized as a Stark of Winterfell to see it happen.

'_I'll need to get King Aerys on my side_,' he thought, '_or I'll have no chance of achieving my goal. Next chance I get, I'll head south and seek an audience with the King. There has to be something that will convince him to help me._'

_So it was, with the birth of a single baby boy and a stubborn young Lordling's desire to see his son succeed him, that destiny began to turn._

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AN: Well, I'd been planning this story for so long I never thought I'd actually get around to writing it. Weird, huh?

I wanted to write this out of a form of curiosity over what a son of Brandon Stark's would be like, as well to balance all these nonsense romances involving his, Eddard, Benjen, and Lyanna's daughters going off to romance Lannisters.

I like Jaime Lannister well enough, but the star-crossed lovers thing gets old pretty quick.

Not sure how fast I'll update this, but I'll try to do it in a timely manner.

Remember, read and review!


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